


Slick

by Otonymous



Category: SLBP - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad Party - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Oil, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 12:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: To turn up the heat with Kyoichiro, just add oil.





	Slick

**Author's Note:**

> I’m currently playing Kyoichiro’s route in SLBP and it is giving me feels left, right and center! So of course, I had to write about everyone’s favourite Sengoku era Robin Hood. Hope you all enjoy this messy, mixed bag of a story!

“Watch it, bumpkin!”

It was too late. The terracotta jug lay shattered on the shop floor, the golden liquid contained within slowly spreading out in concentric circles on the tatami.

Freezing in place at the jarring sound of the crash, you gradually bring yourself to face Kyoichiro, all the while mentally calculating how many years the accident will add to your indentured servitude. His eyes are wide, the whites almost swallowing up the vibrant peridot of his irises; their perfect roundness only challenged by the shape of his mouth suspended open in disbelief.

“Do. You. Have. Any. Idea. How. Expensive. Olive. Oil. Is?!”

If it wasn’t for the fact that Kyoichiro’s face was completely drained of colour, you might have been tempted to unleash your horrible habit of laughing when nervous. But his look of utter devastation channeled your jittery energy into quickly fetching a bowl from the kitchen instead, kneeling over to scoop up whatever was left of the liquid into its new container.

“I’m so sorry! There’s still a bit left. Look! A whole bowlful!” You venture a smile, raising the offering up to the prickly merchant for inspection. A hand shoots out to stop you in your tracks.

“Stop. Just stop. No one is going to want damaged goods and I sure as hell am not going to stake my good reputation on trying to pawn off merchandise that’s less than pristine. Keep it for yourself bumpkin…”

Your eyes lift in surprised glee.

“…you’ll just work off the entire cost of the jug. Gods, you’ll be here for a million years.”

Only to drop again like the stone that sinks to the pit of your stomach.

 

* * *

 

“Why are you naked?!”

“Really? You come into _my_ room, throw something at my face and that’s the first thing you think to say?  What _is_ that anyways? Don’t tell me that’s the olive oil you spilled earlier?”

The look of indignation leaves your face as you consider Kyoichiro’s words, feeling guilty for the second time today. But evidently not guilty enough to avert your eyes from his body, your gaze drifting from his broad chest to the firm grid of his torso and finally, to the dark shadow trailing down his pelvis, the tantalizing preview cut short by the scarlet haori held up around his waist. You discretely clear your throat before continuing.

“I-I thought you were a ninja of Iga, creeping around the way you did! My body just reacted and tried to attack you with the only thing I had on hand. But why are you naked in the first place?”

Kyoichiro shakes his head in exasperation.

“Your furry, freeloading comrade happened to lose control of his bowels when I carried him home tonight, making a mess of Ishikawa Goemon’s extremely expensive, scalloped nanban shirt. As such, I thought it prudent to clean up by the well outside before bringing the stench indoors. But I suppose you  _just_ had to add insult to injury by dousing me in oil the second I entered my own home. Bah, it’s all over the place!”

Securing the haori around his waist, Kyoichiro struggles to wipe the oil from his face, grimacing as his glancing touches prove unsuccessful.

“Here, let me help.”

Gingerly, you approach him, his balled-up fists rubbing at his eyes the way a child does when fighting sleep. The sight imparts an air of vulnerability to the seemingly invincible man that gives you pause.

“You really got me good this time, bumpkin.”

His voice, soft despite the accusation in his words, jolts you from the thicket of your thoughts, and you carefully bring your hands up to cradle his cheeks, thumbs gently sweeping along the thick fan of lashes lining his closed eyes. The contact makes Kyoichiro’s breath hitch, and the sensation of his jaw relaxing under your palms makes you brave.

“Kyoichiro, you must know by now how...how I long for you.”

It was true. Slowly but steadily, your fellow runaway had unobtrusively crept into your heart like smoke from his kiseru pipe, clinging to its deepest recesses the way the scent of tobacco clung to your clothes. Unlikely though it was, his acerbic tongue only served to accentuate the kindness behind his actions, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself wishing to be the sole recipient of his special brand of tenderness.

But your admission is met with an excruciating silence, only broken by the sound of him removing your hands from his face to fall impotently by your sides. His wavering voice, so low as to almost be a whisper, is heartbreakingly raw when he responds:

“You’ve got the wrong person. I’m not the man you think you’re in love with.”

Kyoichiro makes to leave, turning away from you.

_Stop running!_

“Tell me who you are then, so I can judge for myself!”

Your voice turns shrill in its desperation as your hand whips out to grab his retreating body, only to catch onto his haori, the luxurious fabric unravelling from his tapered hips with a flourish that was as dramatic as the man himself.

Hardly cognizant of the fact that your jaw had dropped, your gaze traverses the trails blazed by the viscous oil that had continued to run down his body during your heated exchange, the faint sheen highlighting every solid plane and sharp angle in the moonlight. A sudden heat courses through you and you swallow dryly, feeling parched in the presence of the cool drink of water that was a bared Kyoichiro.

“Is it not enough to strip me emotionally that you also feel the need to strip me physically too?!”

The dusting of pink on his cheeks has now reached the tips of his ears, and you heave an inward sigh of disappointment as his large hands move to cover up a groin that couldn’t quite be masked despite their size.

“Fine! You say you hate ninjas because we keep everything close to our hearts, always unwilling to take the first step in trusting anyone. Consider this my attempt at meeting you halfway then!”

Caught up in the heat of the moment, you reach behind you to untie your obi, hands tugging at your kimono until it falls in a disheveled heap by your feet. It isn’t until the cool night air sends a shiver through your naked body that you feel slightly sheepish at your impulsive behaviour.

For once however, Kyoichiro’s smart mouth is rendered speechless by the sight of you before him. No, he can tell by the artless way your fingers clench and unclench into nervous fists at your side that this is no ploy of a kunoichi; that maybe, _just maybe_ , you are being honest with him. Perhaps then, he could be honest with you. After all, the unveiling of your secret skin conspired with the mystery of your curves to ignite a fire within him like no other, and even Kyoichiro had to admit that the body doesn’t lie.

“Please Kyo! What can I do to make you love me?” Your plea comes out in a rasp as you move to close the distance.

“I don’t deserve your lo—.”

Unwilling to listen to another disparaging word, you press your lips to his, allowing the sounds to die in your throat as your tongue slips into his mouth to swallow his bitterness for your own.

“Let me be the one to decide that.”

His eyes, dark with desire, fixate on your mouth as you leave that whisper on his lips. Finally released from the bounds of propriety, your hungry hands fly over Kyoichiro’s body, his shaky breaths encouraging your fingers to continue gliding over every dip and peak, borne on the slick oil coating his hot skin. _How many nights have you lain awake, hands moving furiously between your legs, imagining this very moment?_

Linking your fingers behind his neck, you press the length of your body insistently to his, relishing in the slippery slide of your supple flesh against his firm muscles and caring not a whit about the mess. And when you finally feel his hesitant hands alight on your skin, infinitely careful in their reciprocity, your ecstatic joy has you arching into his touch.

Kyoichiro’s breathing becomes shallow when you tiptoe up to suck the tender flesh of his neck into your mouth, his groan only adding to your desire to mark him boldly enough to necessitate the buttoning of every last button on his collared shirt for weeks to come.

“Hmm! You don’t — ah!…don’t understand. I’m not a good man.” Kyoichiro utters his confession in between moans, his eyes half-lidded as you make to straddle his lap on the hurriedly made futon. His cock pulsates under the undulating pressure of your hand, stroking torturously from thick base to smooth tip and back again. At his protest, you slow your movements to take in the expression on his face, asking,

“Kyo, do you want this? Do you want…me?”

He closes his eyes, their corners damp with the unfathomable weight of profound sorrow as he solemnly nods in affirmation. Of course he wanted you. He’s wanted you ever since the day he first saw your face, when the clenching grip around his heart made him bristle and unleash ugly words designed to keep you at arm’s length. He didn’t want you to sully yourself by associating with him, damaged and dripping in sin as he was. The way you made him feel was altogether much too good for him, far surpassing his worth as either Narukami Kyoichiro or Ishikawa Goemon.

Breathing a sigh of relief at his response, your lips taste the salt of his tears as they kiss them away. “I’m glad. Because if a man like you is considered bad, then I don’t want to be good.”

His eyes snap open to stare into yours, a softness pervading their emerald depths as the wall of ice starts to melt, signalling you to slowly lower yourself onto him while studying his face to catch every wisp of emotion. The endeavour proves difficult however, as the delicious sensation of being overwhelmingly filled threatens to drive every semblance of thought from your mind as surely as the moans leaving your lips.

Wrapping your legs tightly about Kyoichiro’s waist, you start the slow rock of your pelvis into his hips, each swing ending in a grind of your sensitive clit against the hardness of his groin, already glistening from the commingled smears of olive oil and your mutual arousal.

With you still perched on his lap, Kyoichiro takes your breast into his mouth, and you delight to find that his clever tongue is as skilled with pleasure as it is with sarcasm. Suddenly, you start from the sensation of his teeth lightly grazing your nipple, earning a chuckle from him as he cheekily says, “Can’t have you being the only one with tricks up their sleeve tonight, now can we?”

“Do you always have to have the last word?”

“Yes, at least when it comes to your pleasure.”

And with that, Kyoichiro lays himself flat on the futon, his strong arms keeping you in place above him as his hips thrust up impossibly fast from below, hitting all the right angles to make your mouth gape open in a silent scream. The addition of his thumb drawing slippery circles about your clit proves to be altogether too much for you to take, and your climax has you collapsing onto Kyoichiro’s chest, panting as he tightens his grip on your ass to chase his own release.

 

* * *

 

“So, about that olive oil. Seeing as the final dregs were used on you, perhaps you can cut me a deal and shave a few years off my debt?”

You pose the question to Kyoichiro, angling your head to face him as you lay on his chest, basking in the afterglow of intercourse and the sound of his heartbeat against your ear. One look at the mischief on your flushed, smiling face is all it takes for him to know that you are the one thing he cannot give up.

“I think not, bumpkin. You see, I’ve already decided to never let you go.”

_Incredible. Also, slightly sexy._

**Author's Note:**

> The last line of this story makes so much more sense if you can see the photo that accompanies it! Please check it out on my Tumblr account (scroll to the very bottom): 
> 
> https://otonymous.tumblr.com/post/183417708886/slick-slbp-kyoichiro-nsfw


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